


coffee shops

by toffii



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Coffee Shops, Jeremy and Michael are best friends, as the americans say, or College, they go to uni
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffii/pseuds/toffii
Summary: “Y’know, literally dragging me out wasn’t necessary, Jere. You could have just said.”The other huffed from behind him. “I barely trust you with your own wellbeing.”





	coffee shops

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahah here's prompt two, coffee shop. this literally took me so long to come up with an idea for, jesus, im sorry. Also i didnt write this as shippy as it could be, so sorry if that's disappointing, but best friend feelings are so important to me (i'm not sure why it wasn't quite working cos I really do ship boyf but, eh, whatever) ;w;  
> enjoy!!

Letting out a soft sigh, Michael face-planted into the counter, thoroughly exhausted from a hard shift. He felt his glasses smush into his face painfully, but he couldn’t be bothered to lift his head enough to solve the problem, instead sliding further along the bar. Only twenty minutes left till he could officially close up shop.

After slowly forcing himself up (and groaning the whole time), he grabbed a mop and moved around the counter. Hopefully no one would show up in the last five minutes and demand an overly-extravagant order. Not that that hadn’t happened before often enough for Michael to know that cleaning twenty minutes before close was too grand an assumption. 

He started to put up the chairs, picking each up easily enough. The tiny coffee shop he worked in had only a few tables, most of its seats being around the bar area, and a worn brown sofa squished into the alcove by the large window. Michael didn’t mind – the owner was keen on making the space seem cosy and inviting, and it worked, judging by the amount of regular patrons; the white walls and the few green plants in the spaces of sunlight did more than enough to make up for the slightly cramped area. Getting into the rhythmic lull of cleaning, Michael started humming.

DING.

At the sound of the shop bell tinkling, Michael shot up. “Evening, what can I do for you?”

He heard the familiar laugh before his brain processed who he was looking at. “Pfft, it’s just me, Michael. You can drop that smile, it looks painful.”

At the words, Michael realised he was, indeed, smiling. Conditioned fight-or-flight response. He let it melt off his face into something more authentic. “It’s not even a conscious decision at this point.”

Jeremy laughed, sitting at one of the seats at the bar. He sat with his left leg resting on top of his right, like a pseudo criss-cross position. He shrugged off his bag and pulled it into his lap, curled over it. “How was your day?”

Michael launched into a long, animated explanation of his day’s lectures and the weirdest customers (at least two of which had threatened him with the dreaded manager), Jeremy laughing along and posing questions in the right places. They settled into their easy rhythm, their back and forth natural, familiar; Michael found it lot perfectly to the repetitive motions of cleaning up. He was in the middle of asking his friend about the latest updates in the theatre club production when he was rudely interrupted by the need to yawn.

“…Michael, how long ago did you last sleep six hours?” The boy in question grimaced.

“How would you react to ‘about a week ago’?” The look on his best friend’s face was one he absolutely never wanted to see directed at him again. “Of course, that’s what I would say, if I was trying to exaggerate, haha, because I obviously wouldn’t do something as irresponsible as that-“

Michael’s words died in his throat, strangled by the death glare he was being sent. Immediately, Jeremy stood up, grabbed the mop out of his hands, returned it to its place, and dragged Michael out of the door of the shop. “Wait, dude, I need to take my apron off!” Reluctantly Jeremy released his hand and let him go back in, and Michael quickly shucked off his apron and grabbed his stuff from behind the counter. He fished the keys out of his pockets and joined Jeremy out on the cold November sidewalk.

Keys still in hand, he turned to lock the doors. “Y’know, literally dragging me out wasn’t necessary, Jere. You could have just said.”

The other huffed from behind him. “I barely trust you with your own wellbeing.”

Michael let out a vague noise of protest, swinging round to face his friend. The other just laughed, and he found himself staring at the scene before him with careful attention.

The street lamp cast a pool of glowing orange onto the ground right where Jeremy was standing, catching on the edges of his wavy brown hair and highlighting his edges. His cheeks were flushed from the cold already (Jeremy had never really liked cold weather), and his face was scrunched up in laughter, eyes half-closed. His puffy blue jacket padded his lanky figure. He stood out as a soft shadow against the dark concrete houses behind him. 

Michael wasn’t an art student, but even he could tell how striking the colour palette of that half-moment was; a single soul on the sidewalk, painted in blacks and deep blues and warm oranges. It hit him that this was a scene he’d never forget.

“Come on, let’s get you home, Michael.” The boy said. “And I’m not letting you stay up till three am to listen to ‘just another song’.” 

The half-second passed, and Jeremy started digging in his bag for his scarf, and Michael fell back into the world around him. He felt the cold start cutting at his bones, but he really couldn’t be bothered to get his beanie out of his bag.

“Here, dumbass.” said Jeremy, “Take the scarf.” He kept grumbling even as Michael complied. “And you’re offended when I say I don’t trust you with your health.”

“Mom friend.”

“H-hey!” Michael snickered. “I’m not a mom friend, you’re just irresponsible.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Together they walked down the empty streets, chatting and bantering the whole way, until they reached their shared flat, where Jeremy immediately forced Michael to sleep right now or I swear I’m going to hide the Cap’n Crunch and to which Michael obviously complied because there was no greater punishment than hiding the Cap’n Crunch. They said their good nights and retreated to their rooms. Michael found he was, actually, kinda tired, and probably could actually do with some more sleep; he changed lethargically and crawled under the covers.

In those moments before he fell asleep he felt he understood. Thoughts swirled and eddied around in his brain slowly, melting into each other and blooming like flowers: his friend cared about him enough to see through his bullshit, and he knew he’d do the same for Jeremy were the roles reversed. Friends like them were once, twice in a lifetime.

And whatever label was on it, they loved each other.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos mean the world to me and commenting literally <3<3  
> come talk to me on my tumblr euvangelos.tumblr.com


End file.
